Trail of Tears

The souls of those we have loved and lost or left follows us. Through past pain and purposeful soul isolation we hid. In our hiding place we found love. We invited that one person into our hiding place, and together we soared until social constructs invaded that secret space, and we were forced to live our lies. Our love, our pure, beautiful love, was splintered like a fractured mirror in that brutal outside place. Our love could not thrive there in the vicious wind of social norms. So in our fear, in our anguish, in our hatred of ourselves, one of us fled, and one of us was left behind. Part of us lived in our own secret hiding place, the other part of us in that brutal outside world. We wore our masks while the inside of us achingly reached for someone to love, which could only exist in our hiding place. We would slowly, oh so slowly, let another in so we could be sure they wanted our love too-our true, pure love, and the cycle would continue. Our hearts would break time and time again because like flowers we cannot thrive in that darkness. So when that brutal outside world would tear open the door of our pure love and force us out into that searing heat of societal pressures to be "normal" we would go. We would hate ourselves for finding true love. We would try to fit into what was expected of us and in the process hurt others because we could not love them in return. We could not be ourselves, so others would fall in love with our mask while our hearts wilted because we could not love the one love brought our way. If only society would release us of those expectations, and let us love freely, there would not be such a vast trail of tears.

Our Beautiful "Unofficial" Wedding Day

Kristen and Me

   My wife Kristen and I got married twice. Once was to have a ceremony we could share with loved ones to promise ourselves to each other. The second was to travel 6 and a half hours away, to a city we did not know how to navigate well, just to get a piece of paper that has our names on it and that says we are married.  Our first "unofficial" wedding was in the beautiful state I have lived in all but 6 months of my life, and where Kristen and I first met. She went to high school two cities away from where I attended high school. We met at a Christian Camp we both worked at when we were 18 years old. We kept in touch for 8 years while Kristen went to college and played soccer three states away, then moved up north. We started dating 8 years after we met. I had a huge crush on her after the first time I saw her run her strong hands through her gorgeous, thick, chin length blond hair. At this time in my life, I was firmly rooted in Christian Fundamentalism, and believed my attraction to the same sex was sinful. Although I tried not to be, I was attracted to her athletic body, and strut, as well as her intense love for God and others. She was, and still is, the most patient, caring, unbiasedly loving woman I know. She loves helping people any way she can. One of my favorite stories her Mom has told me is that when she was in elementary school, she would come home and say, "Mom, I need more pencils." When this happened almost every day, her mother asked, "Honey, what's happening to all of your pencils?" To which she responded, "The other kids in my class needed them, so I let them have mine!" like it was the most normal idea in the world. That is certainly my wife today. If someone needs something, and she has it, she will give it without a second thought. If she sees someone who is homeless, she will chat with them a bit, and then give them granola bars that she keeps in her car if they are hungry. She lives without the socially constructed filter of segmenting society into favorable and less favorable. She just sees people who have different stories to tell and adores hearing them all. I am so honored and blessed by her every single day, and I cannot believe she picked me. When she asked me to marry her, I kept saying, "really? really really?" and she responded laughing, " yes of course! I would like a yes or no, you're killing me here!" So I said "Oh of course yes yes yes times a million!" Hugging and kissing and jumping and dancing commenced and we celebrated by going to Texas Roadhouse to start planning our wedding.
   She revealed to me that the reason she somewhat rushed proposing (we had only been dating 7 months) was because she had found out that morning that her sister and her sister's husband, who live clear across the country, were pregnant. It was incredibly important to Kristen to have her sister be able to attend so we either had to wait two months to get married or two years so her sister could fly safely in order to attend. Therefore, we decided that in two months we would be married. The short time was fine by me because patience is certainly not a virtue I usually posses.
   Planning the wedding was both incredibly stressful and interesting. We had many DJs turn us down because  "well no offense but it goes against my beliefs to work at a gay wedding." Kristen thankfully took on the burden of looking for a DJ. She was not hurt as badly from such rejection because she did not live with the fear of knowing she was gay most of her life as I did. She did not even know she was gay until she was 25. The fear that can grow in a person who lives in a Christian Fundamentalist atmosphere is like an infection that can ultimately lead to blood poisoning of the spiritual heart and soul. The fear transforms into the infection of self hate, and the infected grasp onto the lifeless, loveless crutch of rules and their hand made doll of God that is always pointing, always judging, always saying when it is hugged "you are not good enough," and "try harder." I can imagine this fear infection ending in three ways: the horrifyingly too familiar suicide, the unfortunately not noticed enough lifeless zombies who have given up on life and love in order to seek that never ending desire to "fit in," and the one who is freed from the Christian Fundamentalist atmosphere and thinking to embrace a wider view of God and humanity which helps them embrace themselves. It took me 6 years and a traumatic coming out and being silently ostracized by my faith community to be free enough to embrace myself. To Kristen, embracing herself came pretty easily since she didn't have that fear infection. She did manage to find a willing DJ and everything else logistically fell into place. My wife's parents hosted our wedding, and took care of almost everything else themselves from making and decorating the cake, to buying and landscaping their whole yard just for our wedding. They are the best in laws I could have ever hoped for. They both worked so hard to make our wedding absolutely beautiful, and I cannot thank God enough for all of their love and support of us.
   My two best friends agreed to photograph our wedding, and they did a beautiful job of capturing our joy as we weaved our lives ecstatically and irrevocably together. I had asked the Methodist preacher at my home church who loves me and is very open minded, loving, and accepting if she would be willing to officiate our wedding. She said she regretted to say very much that although she would absolutely love to have that honor, the Methodist church may refuse to let her continue preaching if she did. She referred us to another Pastor  who did not have the same issue, and he happily agreed. He gave us some very helpful documents of other holy unions and marriages he had officiated for same sex couples. We were very grateful for these because, let's face it, there are not that many homosexual weddings that are displayed in the media, so we had no clue where to begin planning our ceremony!
 
   Without traditional male/female roles, it was very freeing as well as complicating to create a ceremony that would flow well. I loved the creativity involved in planning the ceremony. I was dreading my own "straight" traditional wedding when I was growing up with the big wedding dress and awkward (for me) formalities. I do admit it took me a while to get used to the idea that we could do pretty much whatever we wanted. I always imagined a wedding had to follow this traditional rigid format of groom waiting at the isle, woman being walked in by her father with bouquet, father handing off bride to groom, words being said and repeated, vows, rings, kiss. I love order and structure, so when my wife and I started thinking about our ceremony, the structure and order were thrown to the wind because we are both women!


Here are some questions you just don't think about until you plan a wedding for two women:

   1: Does someone walk in first? Do we walk in at the same time?
   2: Who's going to give who away?
   3: Dresses; or pants, button down, silk vest and/tie? (I wanted to go with the latter option, but my wife and her family wanted us both to wear a dress. So we did, and if something as insignificant as that can make them happy, then I'm glad to do it.)
   4: Who carries a bouquet? Who throws it at the end?

   My mind was blown away without my comforting structure and order until my wife took my hands, looked straight into my eyes and said, "honey, this is OUR day, we can do anything we want!" Then my creative self soared in the freedom of making this OUR day. We decided that Kristen would walk in first with her Dad, then I would walk in after her. The question was, who would walk me down the aisle?
    My father passed away 7 years before our wedding day. I asked my Uncle who had felt called by God to step in as my father figure if he would be willing to walk me down the aisle. Although we have deep father/daughter connection to this day, he felt that he would be a hypocrite to his personal beliefs if he attended. I asked my Mother if she would be willing to walk me down the aisle. She said she was sorry but she didn't feel like she should. Lastly, I asked my twin sister. She said she wouldn't be able to attend. By this time my heart was shattered by my family's rejection so I just said "fine" to my sister and hung up on her. Then I continued to sit on the steps outside and cried. In my sadness I wrote this poem:

   Who will walk me down the aisle
   Father's gone and sorrows pile
   Love and care seem not enough
   Though I'm a diamond in the rough
   To one who says I'm like a daughter
   But to him it doesn't matter
   Why alone I must be given to
   The one who loves me through and through
   So who will walk me down the aisle
   Father's gone and sorrows pile

I went inside, fell into my lovers arms and said "no one wants to walk me down the aisle," and wept for about half and hour. My wife cried too because of my pain. At this point, no one in my family was coming. I was too scared to ask anyone in my extended family because the rejection of my immediate family was just too much and I felt I couldn't go through that pain again. After a couple of days of mourning my family's rejection, I brainstormed who could walk me down the aisle because I was too afraid to go myself and did not want to go alone. Finally, I called two of my best guy friends who are married to each other and asked if they would be willing, and they agreed. I got the privilege of being walked down the aisle by two of the most handsome men I knew, and my heart was comforted by their support and care for me.

Jon and Zach walk me down the aisle

   Our wedding was absolutely beautiful. My best friend was my maid of honor, and Kristen's sister was hers. They took our bouquets after we were walked in, and held our rings. We had a sand ceremony using green sand for me, blue sand for Kristen, and white sand representing Christ symbolizing how the three of us are inseparable. The cake Kristen's mother made and decorated was absolutely gorgeous. The reception was fun and the whole atmosphere was beautiful, welcoming, celebratory, and not at all awkward or uncomfortable (which was my personal fear). My sister, her husband, and my niece ended up coming, and so many of my best friends from high school attended. One of my friend's mother came who was always a second mom to me and my twin sister. That meant the world to me to have someone who was maternal toward me come to my "gay" wedding. My heart was so full of love and acceptance from my wife's family, and my high school friends. My wedding day was the best day of my life, and I pity that the two people who love me so much couldn't let their love shine brighter than their beliefs so we could all share in my and my wife's happiness and wholeness.

Wedding Cake

Sand Ceremony: Green = Me, Blue = Kristen, White = Christ

 

Halloween Coming Out Short Story

   Every full moon if one listens hard enough, one can hear us howling our passion for the Hunt. The werewolves here in the southern Appalachian mountains take the traditions and rules of this ritual very seriously. Each clan gathers in the cave of their forewolves. I love seeing everyone in our family once a month, and I feel I have somewhere I belong, there's only one problem: I don't like to hunt.
   I can't tell anyone. I've heard horrible stories about cub's getting kicked out of their clans to wander the world alone because they didn't like the Hunt. In school the bullies call werewolves who don't like the Hunt and aren't "wolf" enough lame tames. It's unnatural for a werewolf to dislike the Hunt. I don't know how much longer I can pretend I enjoy it, I would much rather paint passionate sunsets and awe inducing sunrises.
   "Blaine, honey come to dinner, we need to get ready for the Hunt!" I hear Mom say from the kitchen.
   "Yes Mom, let me finish with this color!" I say slightly annoyed. I've been painting a fiery sunset, full of passionate reds, sharp oranges, flashing yellows, and energizing pinks. This is what I love. I finish with the last splash of pink, wash my brush out, and head to the kitchen.
   "Blaine," my dad says, "are you excited for the Hunt!? The piebald deer is my favorite Hunt of the year!"
   October is the Hunt of the piebald deer. The piebald is a deer that is speckled mostly white and very rare. Next month we will hunt the one eared bobcat. We do not kill the creatures, that is not the point. We do not need their meat for sustenance because we have human stomachs, but the Hunt brings us together. The Hunt fills most werewolves, and supposedly all, with the passion of pursuit. I however, do not feel this passion, and I mourn not having it.
   "Oh yes daddy, I can't wait." I try to say emphatically, but I sound so fake. I hope he doesn't notice.
   "Blair," he asks my twin sister, "will you stay by my side this time and not wander off?"
   "Yeah dad, sorry about that. I got stuck in the moment and thought I found the scent." she says apologetically.
   "I know honey, but our clan needs to stick together to succeed." dad says with pride.
   I sighed. I wish I could feel what my family feels: the passion for the Hunt, the excitement, the energy, but I can only find these in my painting. I try to play off my art as a silly hobby and a phase that will pass with time, but I love to paint. Painting makes me feel happy, whole, and myself.
   We finish our dinner, go to our respective rooms, take our human clothes off and put on our robes for the Hunt. Our clan's robe color is a russet orange. With robes on, our father takes the lead and we run into the sunset for our 3 hour trip to the cave. While they are focusing their hearts and minds for the Hunt, I lag behind a little to soak in the sunset. I imagine what colors I would need to mix to capture this last transformation from day to night. The climax of sunset has passed, and the mauve mixes with peach as the world starts to embrace the night.
    "Blaine! Get your head in the Hunt! Hurry up!" my dad hollers from twenty feet ahead.
 I curse myself for getting so far behind. I catch up and try to set my face like a serious hunter. We run on and on through the beautiful mountains, smelling the crisp autumnal air of changing leaves. We can hear the creatures of the night scurry, hoot, or flap leathery wings. Only a few cicadas sing their evening song now that fall has arrived. I sniff the air and I can smell our family of werewolves. We are almost to the cave now. A few minutes later we arrive. The cave's opening is about twenty feet wide and fifteen feet high in the middle of a mountain. The orange warmth of a fire reaches us at the entrance of the cave and we go in. The cave opens into a vast room. I cannot see the ceiling nor the walls opposite of the opening. The bon fire is built about a hundred feet across from the opening and keeps the space warm and well lit. There are warm embraces and catching up about the previous month before the ritual begins. Our clan has about 30 werewolves who gather each month for the Hunt. Jim Dobbs is our clan leader, and he is getting the Hunt alter set up. The alter is a simple five feet by five feet wooden table. Jim Dobbs sets a loaf of bread and a large goblet on top.
   After this, he asks us to get into a circle with the alter in the middle. He then takes the bread in his hands and says,
 "Welcome brothers and sisters to the Hunt of the piebald deer! Before we begin, may we remember our forewolves who have passed on and may we unite with our brother and sister Werewolves who are elsewhere joining in the Hunt." He pauses a moment, then continues.
  "With this bread, we are reminded that we are also human, and with this cup we are reminded that we are all one through the Great Wehr."
He passes the bread around until we each tear off a piece, then partake of the bread together. The he passes the cup, and we drink when he comes to us saying,  "With this cup, we are one in the Great Wehr."
   I love this part of the Hunt. I love the symbolism and the feeling of connection with my family, and all of the Werewolves through the Great Wehr. The Great Wehr was the first and strongest Werewolf whose blood runs through all of our veins.
   After he finishes sharing the cup of the Great Wehr, Jim Dobbs drinks of it himself and puts the cup back on the table. Then, he outstretches his arms and turns slowly as if to embrace us all and says, "Now brothers and sisters, face the world around you and embrace your Wolf!"
   At this command, we each turn so that we are facing away from the center of the circle. We take off our robes and transform into wolves. Jim Dobbs runs to the front of the cave, howls, the rest of the pack howls, and we take off into the now moonlit night.
   The night is chilly, and I can feel the heat and passion radiating from my family as we hunt. I want to feel it too! I want to feel the thrill and excitement when one of us finds the scent but I just can't. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be normal! We run on and on into the night. The moon is full and we can see well although we do not use our eyes to hunt. Our noses and instincts guide us. I follow Blair and mimic her serious demeanor and quiet intensity as best I can. I am an empty actress playing my part so I don't have to be alone or unwanted. We sniff the ground, and the air. I hear Daddy howl in front, he has found the scent. We are swift and now silent. The Piebald Deer is near. I can sense that through their passionate seriousness. I am glad the Hunt is drawing to a close. We have been hunting for about four hours and the sun will begin to rise soon. The Piebald deer is spotted by another family member, Uncle Vine I think. Jim Dobbs and Uncle Vine corner the animal, and Jim Dobbs pounces. The Hunt is over. Once the Piebald is pinned down, Jim Dobbs licks the creatures face, then lets it go.
   We all howl the success of the Hunt, then run back to the cave. Every one else is thrilled, but exhausted. I am just exhausted. As wolves we get back into our outward facing circle, transform back into human, and put our robes back on. They all congratulate each other, and talk about highlights of the Hunt. I smile and stand next to Blair nodding and laughing when appropriate.
When the conversations die down, and some start to leave, Blair turns to me and says, "What a great Hunt huh Blaine?"
   "Yeah totally." I respond with what I had hoped would be excitement, but sounded more like a bored cheerleader. I'm such a lame tame.
   "You ok Blaine?" she asks.
   "Yeah, you know, just tired from the Hunt." I say, and add quickly, "I can't wait until the next Hunt!"
   "Oh same here!" she says with a smile. Then a flash of concern crosses her face before she looks away. Oh no, what if she knows?! Next month I will have to pretend to be more passionate about the Hunt.
   We run home while the sun rises. Wow, it is a beautiful one this morning! The pastels of soft pink, mellow yellow, and sherbet orange lift my spirits and make me feel whole again. We run home full of passion and wonder, them of the Hunt, and me for the anticipation of painting this inspiring sunrise. There will be no school or work today so we can all rest from the Hunt.
   We arrive home and Dad says, "Great Hunt girls! Let's get back into our human clothes and then have some breakfast." After changing, we sit at the kitchen table while Mom makes a hardy breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. Daddy opens Werewolf Weekly and I see a picture of Jim Dobbs on the cover with the headline, Werewolf Recovery Therapy Helps Tame Werewolves Enjoy the Hunt Again.
  "Daddy, can I read that after you're finished?" I ask as offhandedly as possible.
   "Sure honey! Nice to see my cubs interested in what's happening in our world! Here, go ahead, I'm finished with it anyway." He says and hands me the Weekly with a smile.
   I flip through it casually so I won't arouse suspicion. When I get to the article about Werewolf Recovery Therapy, my heart beats faster. I'm so nervous my family will know why I looked at it. I skim the article as quickly as I can. I gather that Werewolf Recovery Therapy is helping Tame Werewolves embrace their wolf side by a therapist leading visualization exercises of the Hunt. Through these visualizations, the therapist helps them embrace the passion and thrill of the Hunt. The Therapy also offers retreats in the middle of the forest to spend more time in wolf form while therapists teach how to be more wolf.
   I flip to the next page, and my eyes glaze over. I am not interested in the rest of the magazine, but I will slowly flip pages until I am done. I have learned again what I already knew about myself: I am not enough, and I am unnatural. How can I be loved?
   I flip the last page, then hand the Weekly back to daddy.
   "Thanks Daddy, very interesting stuff. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room. I'm tired. Thanks Mom for breakfast."
   "You're welcome honey, we'll wake you for dinner." Mom says with her sweet smile.
   "I'm tired too. Thanks Mom! Yummy as always!"  Blair says then follows me into  my room. She closes my door, and she sits on my bed with a concerned look on her face. She pats the bed next to her, and I sit. Oh Great Wehr, she knows. I should have read the magazine later when no one was paying attention!
   "What's wrong sis? You seem so down. You know you can talk to me about anything right?" she says and takes my hand. Yes, I can tell Blair anything.  But what if she tells Mom and Dad? What if she stops talking to me? She's my twin sister and my best friend. Surely she wouldn't judge me. Would she? I sigh heavily. Ok, I will tell her. My heart pounds with fear and tears fill my eyes. "Blair...I...I" I stammer, sniff, and wipe my eyes.
   "You can tell me Blaine, I'll always love you." She encourages.
   "I...I don't like to hunt. I want to! I really do! But I just can't!" and I cover my face with my hands and cry.    Blair moves closer, rubs my back and says, "I know, it's ok."
   "You know? How long have you known? Is it that obvious?" I say fearfully.
   "Oh I've always known, and no sis, it's not that obvious. I'm your twin sister, I just know you better." she says with a smile, then hugs me hard.
   "You still love me?" I ask sheepishly
   "Oh Blaine, of course I do! I will always love you!" She then gives me a squeeze. I cry with relief and a slight sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe love can be bigger than preferences.
 
 

My Gay Marriage in the Bible Belt

   Now, I know what some of you are wondering...who is the man in the relationship? I know this may sound strange but...we are both women! Whew! Now that we have gotten that out of the way, let's move on shall we? :)
   Reflecting on this popular lesbian stereotype, it can make sense why lesbians would try to fit into a male/female role. Before lesbian women had as big a subculture as they do today, they were forced into the closet by their society and community. The only reflections of a romantic relationship they had were their parents, and media that modeled the traditional family. Maybe having a "man" and a "woman" roll in a lesbian relationship made them feel more "normal."
   As for roles in my marriage, my wife mows the lawn, (I have only mowed the lawn once...okay only part of it, for a birthday present) but she cooks most of our meals. I usually do the laundry, but I kill all the creepy crawlies that invade our home. (If they are outside, they are safe. We actually had a spider next to our front door who lived there the whole summer. We named him Tobias, and he was our Gatekeeper...) My wife changes the oil in our cars, and has a shop in our garage where she builds and repairs objects for our home. She also cleans the bathrooms and puts our laundry away. I vacuum and sweep the floors, but I take out the trash and recycling. Our male/female roles are pretty mixed, but no matter what roles we play, we are always a team.
   In all relationships today, I am convinced a growing number of people are feeling less pressure to fit into these male/female roles in homosexual as well as heterosexual relationships. It has certainly not disappeared, but I can sense that pressure is slipping into the minority. I hear more stories of stay at home dads, women who "bring home the bacon," and chores being split more evenly. I think this shift in thinking has occurred partly due to the fact there are more who embrace our country's increasing diversity, especially young people. Also, the media is embracing diversity and showing models of families that reflect better what America's families look like today. Allowing ourselves to follow this shift of embracing diversity can free us from trying to be someone we are not thereby allowing us to accept and love ourselves. When we can accept and love ourselves, I think we can accept and love others better. (Love your neighbor as yourself hmm...) Of course, the other side of this golden rule, the more cliche side, is also important and beautiful (Love your neighbor as yourself). Even so, while I have embraced my own diversity, I still have lingering fears of being in a homosexual marriage in the Bible Belt.
   My fears about marrying my wife in the Bible Belt were many. I thought my family would never talk to me again, I thought we would never be accepted in a church, I thought we would be stared at, scoffed at, and spit at in public. I am still hesitant to hold my wife's hand in public, even in a dark movie theater! In reality, however, we have never been physically or verbally abused. Everyone in my family who has met my wife, even if they don't agree with our marriage, has accepted her. Many have told me how great they think she is. We recently went to my family reunion together. Everyone was very pleasant and seemed very excited to meet her. This was very healing for my heart and a big step for me in the coming out process. Church has been a bit more difficult, but we have tons of support.
   We have been going to a Methodist church here for almost a year. This church reminded me of my home church I attended during childhood. The nostalgia surrounding the traditional worship service helped me open my heart so I could experience God again. A few weeks after we started to attend regularly, the Pastor informed us that while he was very happy we chose to worship there, there were some in the congregation who were having a hard time adjusting to our presence. Despite this, we kept going. No one confronted us, or asked us to leave. People went out of their way to shake our hands during the greet your neighbor part of the service. I recently became a member, and to make a long story short (I plan on sharing details of this story later) about 6 people left the church because of my joining. My heart was broken for the people that left, and for the reminder that I was not "normal."
   I find myself struggling with this desire still. I feel that some view mine and my wife's marriage as not quite real, or that we are playing some game and we aren't "really married." Getting married was a hassle in and of itself (I plan to share details of this later as well.). I always start our marriage story as "It was the best and worst day of my life." We have a marriage certificate from the District of Columbia. However, I cannot receive insurance benefits from my wife's job, and we had to buy documents that would insure if one of us passed away, the other would get the property, and money we acquired while building our lives together. We also keep a shrunken copy of our marriage certificate in our wallets just in case one of us gets hurt enough to put us in the hospital so we will be allowed to visit each other. Sigh, the thought of being denied to see my wife if she is hurt terrifies me. Most of my fears, however, have not come true, and I am so happy God blessed me with people to usher my way into an acceptance of myself as a Lesbian and a Christian. I have finally found my place in this world: in the arms of my loving wife, and my loving God.

Back Yard Birthday present!

Tobias the Gatekeeper!